


MyQuil™ Cold & Flu: Powerful Nighttime Relief

by s_c_r_i_p_s_i



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Experimental Touching, F/M, Incest, Laurie Implied Narrator, Michael and Laurie are siblings, No Fog, Non-Consensual Cuddling, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Scars, Sibling Incest, Sickfic, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vague Halloween Universe, petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29730396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_c_r_i_p_s_i/pseuds/s_c_r_i_p_s_i
Summary: Textbooks were strewn across her messy bed with good intentions, peppered with crumpled up dollar store tissues that rubbed her nose raw. A full, unopened bottle of NyQuil sat on the nightstand, taunting her; she’d bought it as a last resort but was too stubborn to actually touch the damn thing.She was already disgustingly vulnerable as it was. No need to sign, seal, and deliver an invitation to the Devil himself.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Laurie Strode
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	MyQuil™ Cold & Flu: Powerful Nighttime Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainBeck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainBeck/gifts).



> Thank you so much for commissioning me, Beck!!! It was a joy to delve into this ship. 🖤 I think it was kinda taboo to talk about this ship even on the DBB server until you broke the ice and I'm eternally grateful because it's a GOOD one. 
> 
> & Thank you to Pugge for coming up with this GODAWFUL title, and buying me boba, and keeping me sane ILY MY MUSE, MUAH 😘

Michael had never stopped chasing her. Nor she him. 

And that balance was more delicate than she’d like to admit. Always the looming sense that despite everything she did, all the measures she took, she wasn’t completely in control. 

Turns out that feeling was right. She just wasn’t expecting that her greatest enemy would be her own body crapping out on her. 

Textbooks were strewn across her messy bed with good intentions, peppered with crumpled up dollar store tissues that rubbed her nose raw. A full, unopened bottle of NyQuil sat on the nightstand, taunting her; she’d bought it as a last resort but was too stubborn to actually touch the damn thing. 

She was already disgustingly vulnerable as it was. No need to sign, seal, and deliver an invitation to the Devil himself. 

You know - she was willing to bet _he_ didn’t have to put up with this kind of thing. But that would be opening up a train of thought she’d rather not have.

It was cold in the apartment. Laurie never put the heat above 60 degrees. And any other day, that would have been perfectly manageable, but she’d soaked clean through her sheets overnight with sweat, and now she was _freezing._

Sarcastically, she wished Michael was there so that he could put her out of her misery then instantly regretted it, chastising herself and wondering when her sense of humor had gotten so dark. The answer, though, was obvious. He’d changed her. Morphed her, warped her. She couldn’t even relate to her peers anymore. And they _certainly_ couldn’t relate to her. 

She was in some half-state at the moment. Awake enough - the bitter cold made sure of that - but too sore and lethargic to actually do anything about it. Just lying there shivering wasn’t going to be very productive, though. At some point, she’d need to decide what she was going to _do,_ whether that was sleep or study or… what. 

Droopy eyes blearily drifted over to the alarm clock. 3 AM. 

God. The whole day. _Gone._

Her gaze wandered over to the television playing quietly in the background, its soft light playing across the walls. Had she really left that on? Falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV had been commonplace as a kid, or while she was babysitting, but now… Well, she preferred to be able to hear her surroundings. 

How unlike her to forget... 

Wouldn’t hurt to leave it, would it? She wondered with a shiver, eyes slipping closed. Just this once…?

Impossible to tell if it was seconds or hours that had passed when Laurie awoke with a _start_ at the sensation of the bed moving under someone’s weight. Eyes cracking wide open, she stared at the wall in front of her, the way her heart kicked a crater in her chest immediately sobering.

She knew. _Exactly._ Who it was.

It sounded ludicrous, even to her. She wanted to doubt. To believe that there was a thin margin it could really just be a very… _very_ foolish burglar. But she knew better than that.

So… what should she do?

The obvious answer was _fight,_ but something told her not to move. Not yet. _Wait._ See if she could map out her attacker’s positioning first; anticipate what he was going to do. She might only have one chance. Had to make it a good one.

Strategically, she was in a tough spot. Her bed was adjoined by the wall on two sides so that she couldn’t be snuck up on from behind, but evidently, she’d gotten turned around in her sleep - all that feverish tossing and turning. Now she was facing the wall and flying completely blind.

It took all her willpower not to move, scraping, with tooth and nail the bottom of the barrel of her _everything._ Defying every instinct, every ache in her muscles to do otherwise. She could hear him swiping her textbooks out of the way like a cat knocking things off the table with zero regard for her personal belongings; one of them audibly smacked the floor and she nearly jumped out of her skin. 

In the past three years since that one fateful Halloween and everything proceeding it, Laurie had seen him a handful of times. But never this close. Just glimpses, here and there. Hard to tell what was real and what was just… unchecked psychosis. (She refused to do something so foolish as dull her senses while he was still out there - fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. She wasn’t going to let _anyone_ else die if she could help it.) 

He seemed to come and go like a stray. Sometimes leaving evidence in his wake. Missing clothes… things in the wrong place. Hard to tell if he was trying to bait a reaction out of her, or if he just… didn’t _care_ enough to try and cover his tracks.

On a dangerous whim, she’d tried to chase him down a couple of times. It never amounted to anything, though. Wouldn’t be seen unless it was on his terms.

To think he was nearly in her grasp now…

She tried to make the move as natural as possible, like she was merely shifting in her sleep as she crawled her hand beneath her pillow and wrapped her trembling fingers around the hilt of the knife stowed away safely underneath. If she wasn’t already sweating, she would have started now. 

He seemed to hesitate behind her, as if unsure if she was awake or not - though she knew better than to think it was out of _fear._ She got the impression that, for whatever reason, he didn’t want her to be awake for this. 

Well, fat chance, it was like an elephant stepping onto the bed. He had to weigh some two hundred and something pounds. 

For a moment, they were both perfectly still.

Then he began to move again, lifting the blanket up and… keeping it there. She could feel the cold air on her sweat-damp skin, on her bare legs and hip, her nightshirt having ridden up in the middle of the night. 

There was a pang in her shoulder, a desperate urge to preserve her modesty and yank it back down over her ass, because she could _feel_ his eyes burning into her.

It drew out too long, and something inside her snapped. “Michael!” Laurie whipped around, the words hissing through her teeth, sharp and scolding, before she could even stop herself. 

Her heart dropped to her stomach as soon as she realized what she’d done. 

There was a _long_ pause. Odd, how much she could interpret from the silence, even without a real face to put to it. He was definitely… thinking. Contemplating something, staring at her with those mismatched eyes from behind his mask. 

_She_ did that to him. It was a point of pride for her, and maybe it shouldn’t have been, but the physical _proof_ she could leave lasting damages on him was… Satisfying. 

Whatever he was set on doing, he apparently decided to carry on with it even if she was awake, the weight of his knee pressing into the mattress as he loomed into her space.

Digging her heels into the bed, she kicked herself back until she felt the wall behind her, but he just wouldn’t _stop._

She had to strike now.

Fingers tightening around the knife, she lunged for his throat, only to be brought to a screeching halt mid-air as his hand clamped around her wrist. A metallic clatter jarred her, Michael dropping his own knife so that his other hand was free to pry her stiff fingers off the blade one by one, until there was a second clattering as it too hit the floor. 

Then he shoved her back onto the bed with such effortless force she bounced on the bedsprings. 

Like a snake coiling and striking she reared her leg back and kicked right for the center of his gravity, but he just snatched her ankle, yanking her down a couple of inches. 

Her stuffy head was spinning from all this motion, a twinge of pain blooming behind her eyes. And she didn’t know what his end goal was, but that didn’t stop her from thrashing and kicking up a storm as he manhandled her around, her own hair flying in her face, bodies bumping until she didn’t know what was direction was _up._

Far too quickly, she wore herself out, the fight slowly leaving her as her body went lax, panting for breath and mind reeling as her brain tried to catch up and physically place herself, because she wasn’t getting _anywhere_ struggling mindlessly. 

She was on her side, her back pressed up against what she was fairly certain was his front, in some vicious mockery of spooning, and he was just pinning her there with both arms, waiting it out. A patient boa constrictor. 

After a moment of her just lying there, one of his hands moved from around her waist to her arm - she jerked as if to elbow him, but it was a feint, and a weak one at that; she didn’t have the strength to put any real _oomph_ into it. Her whole world was pulsing, dilating and constricting, blood rushing through her ears. No thought. Just raw nerve. A bird that’s just flown into a window.

Gradually, she realized he was examining her scar. Prodding and pushing at it, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch and stretch at the skin. She wondered if he felt the same way about it as she did the marks she’d made on him; _satisfied._ That same primitive feeling of _‘I made this.’_

The number of times they’ve been this close have been few and often far between - and always chaotic, no time to smell the roses, as it were. Maybe that’s what he was doing. Examining her while he had the chance, while she was too weak and tired to yowl and spit and kick and fight. Playing with his food. Pushing the peas around on his plate. 

It was strange, feeling him treat this permanent artifact of violence that _he_ put there with such… He wasn’t being gentle, exactly. But something about it felt so antithesis all the same. 

Grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm up and out from the blankets, he pressed his thumb into her palm and firmly rolled his giant fingers across her metacarpals neither gently nor _ungently,_ more like he was trying to feel out her skeletal structure. 

Strangely, it didn’t feel awful. Something about it redirected straight to her stomach, a light, lurching feeling but not an unpleasant one. It wasn’t that off from a manicure massage thought she knew without a shadow of a doubt pampering her was not his intent. 

He was just being a creep. Like normal. Just… a lot closer than usual. So close she could hear his breathing. _Feel_ his breathing, despite the number of barriers that should have prevented it; hot and warm on the back of her neck. 

It wasn’t long before she felt his fingers creep into her hair. She allowed it. What the hell else was she going to do? In the same off, incidental way, it wasn’t the worst. Didn’t feel deliberately nice, but that’s because it wasn’t, it wasn’t for _her_ benefit at all. And yet, every movement had tingles shooting down her scalp, it was so unexpectedly _good._

A number of things to call him came to mind. _Pervert_ being one of the first, though she wasn’t sure that’s what this was about. Maybe she was the weird one, for feeling anything other than utter _revulsion_ at him touching her like this. He was her brother, for God’s sake.

She began to zone out while he messed around; Michael eventually moved on from her hair, but by the time he did, she was nearly half-asleep from the warmth he was radiating, finding it a whole _new_ struggle just to stay awake. A grope at her elbow, here. A touch of her knee, there. Invasive. Bothersome. But non-threatening enough that she was starting to slip against her will. At one point, her aching eyelids had dropped closed and she hadn’t managed to reopen them since.

Unbothered, he continued exploring, his finger pushing past her lip to feel at the gum of her canine, while she mumbled some vague groan of complaint, _gently_ kicking him in the shin. Everything felt so sensitive. Ooey, gooey, sick and vulnerable, and _tired._

And then, his fingers found her hip bone, pressing deeply, and something _sharp_ ran through her, zinging through the fog. 

He was all over her, Laurie couldn’t even keep track anymore, her breathing starting to pick back up as his hands roamed over her. The next thing she knew, Michael was running his hand up the column of her throat and the sensation went straight to between her legs. Arching, she shifted in search of friction, only to feel an almost painfully unyielding hardness poke at her tailbone. 

Oh.

There was a definite pause before Michael removed his hand from her neck, returning to constricting her in place with both arms so tightly she was unable to _move-_ which was probably the point, but what it _felt_ like, was that he was trying to grind their bones together until she was absorbed into him completely; to solder them, the gap between them only ever arbitrary to begin with.

Eventually, she melted into his hold, the last pale dregs of fight left within her evaporating as she drifted off to sleep.

###### 

Thank you for reading!!! 🖤

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